


An ADA and a Blogger Walk Into a Bar (Stop Me if You've Heard This One)

by ThisWasntTaken



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Anything after Munoz is up for grabs, Español | Spanish, Multi, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Series Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-02 22:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5266172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisWasntTaken/pseuds/ThisWasntTaken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're a blogger from London who reports on crimes that others don't care about. Because of this, you have crossed paths with ADA Barba before, but you've never really interacted with him—in fact, he always seemed kind of arrogant to you. But when Alex Muñoz calls out his childhood friend, ADA Rafael Barba, for exposing his indecent behaviour with constituents (and 15-year-olds), you realize that he's actually a good person. Then you see him in a bar that night, so why not?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am not British, and I'm honestly not sure why I decided the character would be, but I did. I spent some time in the UK, but excuse any mistakes.
> 
> Spanish is Italicized and translated as hovertext.
> 
> Reader can be any gender. Thus far, I've managed to avoid pronouns, but if I have to, I'll use "they/them/their" because it's less jarring than a total misgendering. (In Spanish, I assume this would be dealt with by conjugating for a male person.)
> 
> The name of the blog, "A Revolutionary Act," is a reference to the George Orwell quote, "In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act." It's an offshoot of the blog the reader ran in England (which has yet to be named in-story) called "And Shame the Devil," a reference to the Shakespeare quote, "Tell the truth and shame the devil."

“New Yorkers are smart. They know the powers that be are terrified of me becoming mayor,” Alejandro Muñoz says through a television in a bar.

“Is it true that you were sexting with a 15-year-old?” a reporter asks.

“We’re not taking any questions at this time,” the PR man interjects.

“The wealthy on Park Avenue with their nannies and cooks, the real-estate moguls, the white-collar criminals on Wall Street, the powers that be that benefit from the _status quo_ , they know that I’m gonna fight, but I’m going to fight for the working people.”

“Yelina, are you standing by your man?” the same reporter asks.

Yelina makes a face as Alejandro continues, “We’ve come too far—too far to allow them to get away with this!”

“What about the explicit photos you sent?” another reporter asks.

“I have been set up by powerful special interests who have used a corrupt NYPD Detective, who’s been the subject of two IAB investigations—including prostitution—and my old friend, ADA Rafael Barba, who has proven that he is the lapdog of this city’s aristocracy.”

“Anthony, do me a favour? Mute this, will you?” Olivia asks. The bartender complies.

 

“Are you Rafael Barba, then?” you, having come up behind the group while the news was on, ask. Rafael only sighs in response. “It’s going to rain down on you, you know.”

Rafael turns to you. “I know.” Nick bids the group goodnight and leaves.

“That’s why I want to say thank you,” you say.

“What?”

“Two Cubanos from the _Barrio_ , trying to hack it in the white bread world? The loyalty you must have felt for him, but you still did the right thing. He sexted with a fifteen-year-old girl,” you gesture at the television, “and here he is, blaming you for single-handedly destroying his campaign. So thank you. It couldn’t have been easy, but you did the right thing.”

“Don’t count him out. He’s a winner,” Rafael shakes his head. “When I was seven—when I was seven, my mom said, ‘stick with Alex; he’ll be mayor of New York someday.’”

“What he did was wrong.”

“Yeah, well. No danger of a traffic jam on the high road.”

“Still, he was your friend,” Olivia says.

“So was Yelina. She thinks this was personal, not professional.”

“You had a job to do. You did it. That’s all this was.”

Rafael looks at the drink in his hands. “Maybe.”

 

“How many has he had?” you inquire, looking over Rafael to make eye contact with Olivia.

“This is his first,” Olivia answers. “Why?”

“So, you’re not too drunk for me to offer to cheer you up,” you smirk.

“What?” Rafael almost laughs from the surprise.

“We’ve met a few times—I write a blog on crimes not picked up by major media, and sometimes not even well-investigated by the police—and we’ve run into each other. You always struck me as attractive, if arrogant, but I wondered what sort of person you were. Today I found out.”

“What kind of person is that?”

“The kind who’s willing to do the right thing even at great personal cost. The kind whose penis I wouldn’t mind having inside me,” you inform him, leaning on the bar and motioning for the bartender.

“Wow!” Olivia blurts out, clearly impressed (and surprised).

“I don’t have time for niceties,” you shrug. “Or, I guess I don’t have the patience for them.”

“You two should get along great, then,” Olivia laughs. “I’m gonna head out.”

 

You sit next to Rafael and introduce yourself.

“Rafael, but you seem to know that,” he responds as the bartender puts your drink in front of you. “Have we really met before? I don’t think I’d forget that accent.”

“Ah, well. I don’t know that we’ve ever spoken, but you’ve blown past me like a windstorm of caffeine before, almost always followed by something like, ‘excuse ADA Barba; he’s very busy.’”

“That does sound like me,” Rafael allows. “So how does a British crime reporter end up in New York?”

“I studied law at Oxford and Cambridge, and I worked as a barrister for a while, a prosecutor. After a few years, I became disillusioned by the cases my bosses said weren’t important enough or solid enough to prosecute, by all the victims who wouldn’t get to tell their stories. So I started a blog about the cases I couldn’t take to trial—anonymously, of course. It took off, I quit my job, went public, got other writers, and one day someone sent me the details of a case in New York. I came for the first case and I stayed for the rest.”

“You run _A Revolutionary Act_ ,” Rafael says.

“I do. You’ve heard of it?”

“You might imagine that I work very closely with police officers. They’re split on you.”

“I am a microphone to the mouths of victims. If their mouths say that NYPD failed them, then others need to know that,” you say. “I am neither for nor against the NYPD. I am for victims—like Alex Muñoz’s victims.”

 

The two of you drink for a while, getting to know each other and taking Rafael’s mind off his supposed betrayal, before heading out together. Rafael lives only a few blocks from the bar, so you go to his place.

 

You wake up in the middle of the night—maybe three or four—and your throat is dry. You carefully extricate yourself from Rafael, going to the bathroom and drinking directly from the sink. You stand in the dim overhead light for a while, trying to decide if you should leave now or get back in bed and face the potentially awkward morning; neither prospect is particularly appealing—the warmth of a stranger’s bed or the cold safety of home. Your reverie is interrupted when Rafael pushes on the slightly-ajar door, opening it fully. He’s got his boxers on, reminding you that you’re still totally naked.

“Is everything okay?”

“Mmm,” you agree. “I drank until I was thirsty again. Do you need the bathroom?”

“You’ve been in here for fifteen minutes. I thought you might be having a crisis.”

“I was trying to decide if I should go home, actually.”

“It’s cold out,” Rafael suggests. “And it’s not even four in the morning.”

“So, you think I should come back to bed?”

“I’m saying you’re welcome to,” he shrugs.

“All right,” you nod. It’s late, it’s cold, and he’s hot. Might as well.

 

The next time you wake up, it’s Rafael who’s missing from the bed. You get up and gather your clothes, putting them on before you go out to find him. For a delirious moment, you half expect to find him in the kitchen making you breakfast, but the entire house is empty except for you. You grab your phone to check the time—8:32—and see that you have three texts from a contact named Rafael Barba.

 

_I had to go to work, but please help yourself to breakfast. – RB_

_I left a spare key by the door. Please put it under the mat when you leave. – RB_

_You can call me. I mean it. – RB_

_I never turn down free food, I’ll put the key under the mat, and now you can call me._

 

You smile as you go through the fridge—mostly takeout and beer, sure signs of a busy person with no family to speak of. You eventually find cinnamon raisin bagels and pop one in the toaster. Your phone chimes a text.

 

_I will. – RB_

 

It’s funny how those two words make you giddy, like you aren’t a grown up, but you grin all the way to your flat.

 

 

 

The next evening, you’re interviewing another victim of an apparent-serial mugger that none of the boroughs will listen to you about (each victim is in a different precinct, and all the precincts want at least two victims before they bother any of the others). Your phone rings, and you apologize to the victim and her mother, selecting one of the pre-composed messages about being at work to send with the call rejection. Shortly after, you get a text notification.

 

It’s after six before you finish the interview and can check your texts.

 

_Dinner tonight? – RB_

 

You check what time it was sent—5:02—and decide a phone call would be more direct.

“Barba.”

“Hey, Rafael. I was interviewing a victim. Have you eaten?”

“I’m standing outside a restaurant, but I haven’t eaten yet.”

“Would you still like to meet?”

“I’d love to. I’ll text you an address.”

 

You get off the subway at West Broadway and Chambers Street and walk to the restaurant, looking around for Rafael. He isn’t outside, but it’s cold, so you head in. You ask about Rafael Barba, but the hostess doesn’t recognize the name. You’re checking your texts again to confirm the location when a hand lands on your arm.

“Hey,” Rafael greets. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”

You shake your head. “I just got here. I thought you were outside when we talked?”

“I was outside a Chinese place. I was gonna get takeout.”

You laugh. “I would have been fine with Chinese takeaway.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time. For now, we’re already here.” Rafael asks the hostess for the manager, with whom he as a brief exchange in Spanish, and then the manager leads you back to a table.

 

“You might have overestimated how well I’m doing with the blog,” you comment, noticing how upscale this place seems to be (really, you’ve been thinking about this since you ended up in TriBeCa).

Rafael almost looks puzzled for a moment. “Unless I’m mistaken, we’re on a date. I invited you, so I’ll pay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Rafael smiles. “Unless we’re not on a date. In that case, you’re on your own.” His wicked, teasing grin makes you laugh.

 

After you order, Rafael asks about your family. You give him the Reader’s Digest version (this is a first date) and then ask about his. He has an _abuelita_ that he worries about often—she lives in a sixth-floor walk-up in the _Barrio_ —and a mother who takes care of her. He doesn’t mention a father; you don’t ask.

 

Frankly, you’re amazed at how different your childhoods were, and then how different your adulthoods became. Rafael’s mother worked three jobs (still no mention of a father) and raised him in Spanish Harlem; Rafael worked his ass off in school and got a scholarship to Harvard and then to Harvard Law. You grew up in the richest neighbourhood in London with married parents, slept through the best public school education, sailed into Oxford as a Legacy student and then into Cambridge with an equal lack of effort. Now Rafael earns $75,000 a year (okay, you Googled him) as an NYC ADA and you make—enough to live—as a blogger and public speaker. But now you understand the arrogant attitude; fake it ‘til you make it.

 

“You’re not a wine drinker?” Rafael asks, looking at your mostly-untouched wine glass.

“Well,” you admit, “I haven’t found a wine I wouldn’t trade for cheap whiskey.”

“Chinese takeout and cheap whiskey. Over a nice restaurant and wine.”

“You don’t have to do all this. I’m a cheap date,” you laugh.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Rafael winks.

 

After dinner, you and Rafael share a cab. Before giving the cabbie an address, he turns to you.

“It’s not exactly cheap whiskey, but I’ve got some single-malt scotch at home, if you’d like to try.”

“On the first date? What do you take me for?” you laugh.

“Then give him your address,” Rafael gestures to the cabbie, still waiting for a destination.

“I’d love to join you, Rafael.”

Rafael gives you a small, private smile, nods his head, and tells the driver his address.

 

***

 

Rafael gets busy working on a case about that coach on some American version of a British talent show, and you finally (unfortunately) get another mugging victim in Brooklyn. You turn over hard copies of all your notes to the Brooklyn PD, who ask you to take the information off your website; you refuse.

 

***

 

A week or so later, you get an email asking you to look into a video of a female ensign getting a DUI. Apparently, the subject is the mailer’s daughter, and she can’t believe that her daughter would break protocol this way, considering who her father is.

 

When you get to the hospital, Olivia and Nick are getting an update on a victim’s condition.

“Hello, Detectives,” you greet.

“You’re from the bar,” Olivia acknowledges.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m here to look into the case of a young ensign who was DUI. Her mum emailed me.”

“That’s our case,” Nick says. “What are you doing investigating?”

“I run _A Revolutionary Act_ —”

“Oh, great,” Nick interrupts.

“The dash-cam of her stop is already going around certain circles, and her mum wants me to look into it.”

“We can handle it,” Olivia assures you.

“With all due respect, Detective, her mum specifically said that she doesn’t think this will be a case the NYPD can handle or that the MPs _will_ handle.”

“What does that mean?” Olivia asks.

“Her mom doesn’t think she’ll be much more help now than she was before,” Nick responds, “and if she was raped, she’s not a victim; she’s a liability.”

“Would you mind if I went in with you?”

“I’ll ask her if she’s okay with it,” Olivia agrees.

 

As expected, the victim (Amelia Albers) isn’t much more forthcoming in the hospital than she was in the holding cell.

Olivia relents. “Is there anybody in the area that we can call, any family or friends?”

“My mom, she lives in Annapolis. Can you tell her not to tell my father, please?” Amelia drops to a whisper. “He’ll be so disappointed.”

“Amelia, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Olivia promises.

“I’m an ensign. I am supposed to be able to take care of myself. My two brothers are marines! My three... my father served in three wars!”

“Darling, I run the blog _A Revolutionary Act_. Your mum emailed me, so she already knows. She didn’t seem to have told your father, but she did think something had happened to you. I’m not the police; if the detectives leave, will you tell me what happened?”

“You’ll just tell them.”

“I’m a certified barrister in the UK, and attorney-client privilege works much the same way. When you tell me your story, I become your attorney; what you say to me gets no further than you want it to.”

 

You come out after a while, and Olivia stops you. “Did she tell you what happened?”

“Without breaking confidentiality, all I can say is, _please_ get her to talk to you. She—I need to go back to mugging victims,” you’re on the verge of tears, and Olivia puts her hand on your arm to comfort you. “It’s horrible, Detective Benson. You have to get her to press charges.”

“Can you tell us anything? Did she know who did it?”

You nod. “She knew them. All four of them.” You close your eyes and sigh, trying to get the image out of your head. “I have a friend in the Armed Forces, and she never told me if it happened to her, but she talked about how the American military treats rape survivors, and one thing she said still sticks with me. She said, ‘[fear is marching next to the enemy and shooting at a stranger](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0qB_22fwVhg).’ If you don’t pursue this case, no one will.”

 

Rafael texts you later, asking you to meet him at the police station.

You kiss him when you see him, but he tenses in response.

“All right, lover?”

“ _Lover_?!” Nick asks, nearly choking on his coffee.

“My mum’s from Bridgewater,” you shrug.

“Is that a euphemism?”

“No,” you say. “ _My mum’s from Bridgewater_. In Somerset, it’s perfectly all right to call strangers ‘lover’; sort of like the rest of England uses ‘love’,” you turn to Rafael. “The point stands: all right?”

“She disclosed to you,” Rafael says.

“Raffi,” you shake your head. “I’m her attorney—”

“For what? The fraternization, disorderly conduct, and adultery charges?”

“What?”

“She’s been arrested. By the Coast Guard.”

“Oh my goodness,” you say, leaning against the desk nearest you (it seems to be Nick’s).

“Can you just confirm what we already suspect?” Olivia asks.

“I shouldn’t,” you remind them. “But the MPs will make this go away. They’ll drop the charges if she agrees not to pursue this.”

“She told us that Lipitt, Wooten, and Graver raped her,” Olivia says. “You mentioned four people.”

“She told me Graver just pinned her arms, but the other two were brutal.”

“What about the fourth man?”

“Detective Benson, if I betray the confidence of the people who tell me their stories, people will stop doing it.”

“And if you _don’t_ tell us who the fourth man was, he _won’t_ stop doing it.”

You sigh. “You really need to talk to her. But I can tell you that people who hold rank aren’t used to being told no.”

“She was an ensign. Practically everyone held rank,” Nick points out.

“Then maybe look into why Graver just held her arms?” you suggest. You turn back to Rafael. “Now. Did you ask me down here _just_ to steamroll me, or did you plan to buy me dinner, too?” You don’t bother hiding the cold anger in your voice.

“Chinese takeout and cheap whiskey?” Rafael offers, holding his elbow out to you.

You loop your arm into his. “You know just the way to my heart,” you agree. “But I’m still furious.”

 

The Article 32 hearing goes terribly, and Amelia’s cross-examination in civilian court goes just about as poorly. You and Rafael meet the team for drinks.

“That went about as badly as it could have gone,” Rafael says as soon as he spots Olivia and Amanda. He stands between them, taking off his jacket.

Amanda disagrees. “They heard the extent of her injuries, the results of the rape kit.”

“Uh-huh. All it takes is one juror to believe that she likes rough sex.” Rafael’s tone is matter-of-fact, but even after only a few weeks you can tell he’s disgusted by the prospect.

“‘Rough sex’?” Olivia asks. “They practically tore her apart.”

Amanda nods. “You’re gonna get these guys on the stand. You’re gonna break—”

“Not a chance. After today, the defence won’t bother to put the guys up there. She was drunk, her story changed, her details are inconsistent, cue the reasonable doubt acquittal.”

“He’s right,” you agree from the other side of Olivia. “There’s absolutely no reason for them to ruin what Buchanan’s established. They’re done.”

Nick comes in with a file. “I might have something that can help. Taverts’ testimony at a military hearing—”

“Stop! Oh, no, no, stop talking,” Rafael commands, his voice dropping to a whisper as he looks around.

“Okay, you all right, counsellor?” Amanda asks.

“You almost tripped over the Garrity rule. Everything in this file is dirty,” Rafael tells them, much to everyone’s chagrin. “An officer can’t invoke at a military hearing, so the courts consider this testimony to be compelled, to be coerced.”

Olivia gets to the point. “So these statements cannot be used in a criminal prosecution.”

“If I even so much as _look_ at this file, I have to recuse myself from the case. Mistrial. Game over,” Rafael states. “Where did you get this file?”

“It’s... it was my idea,” Amanda admits. “His ex works at the Pentagon. I thought if he nosed around about Taverts...”

“Maria said the flood gates opened up on this guy—” Nick starts.

“Yeah, I—yeah, I bet they did. They’re setting you _up_ ,” Rafael insists. “Someone’s trying to poison the well.”

“You know, hypothetically, if I had read it, could I talk to another defendant about his relationship with—” Nick tries again.

“Would you stop talking?” Rafael demands. “You read this file?” Nick’s distancing himself from the question and his expression are answer enough. “You can’t talk to anyone about any of this,” he tells them all, then turns to Nick, “and you’re off the case. _¿_ _Me entiendes?_ ” Rafael leaves.

“This is... This is my fault. I’m very, very sorry,” Amanda says.

“No, Rollins, darling. You couldn’t have known,” you assure her. “And he isn’t angry at any of you. It’s just that—knowing what’s in that file—Amaro can’t be objective anymore,” you turn to Nick. “If he’d let you finish a single sentence, and the defence found out, this case would be over. And considering how well it’s going, I’m not sure Amelia would be up for this again.”

“It’s okay,” Nick says. “At this point, we’re already at trial. The only thing I maybe wanted to do was look at Graver one more time.” He leaves, too, and you head outside to see if you can catch up with Rafael.

 

He’s waiting outside for you, only a meter or so from the door. “ _Hace frio_ ,” you comment.

“It’s better than being in there,” Rafael says. “Buchanan’s already made this impossible, and then Amaro has to do something stupid like this.”

“He didn’t know, Raffi,” you soothe, taking his arm and beginning to walk. “Let’s get to the station.”

“You know what happened to her,” Rafael says.

“It’s—awful, Raffi,” you agree. “And I wish like hell that your case were more solid, that this were a sure thing, but it’s not Amaro’s fault or Amelia’s fault or Rollins’ fault that it isn’t.”

“I know,” Rafael admits, “but I’m the only one who can give her justice. And I’m not sure if I can.”

“On the upside, now that he’s read the file, Amaro’s going to do what I suggested before.”

“What’s that?”

“Find out why Graver only held her arms,” you shrug.

 

They get Graver to admit that he’s gay, and he agrees to testify for reduced charges. None of the men take a plea, because they don’t respect Graver and they assume that no one else will, but that’s their undoing. On Wednesday, 13 November, the jury finds all three men guilty of rape in the first degree. You hug Amelia and walk with her, linked arm-in-arm, out of the courthouse with her family.

 

The Coast Guard dropped the charges against Amelia, in exchange for a general discharge under honourable conditions, but she’s okay with that, because your friend was right. Fear really _is_ marching next to the enemy while shooting at strangers, and Amelia isn’t sure she can do that anymore. You—along with her father—assure her that she is braver than any of the men who attacked her.

 

***

 

You don’t run into the team much for about two months. You and Rafael are doing well, of course—dinners when he can get away from the office, lunch deliveries when he can’t. The pair of you are having dinner at a Cuban place in the Village when you get the news. Reverend Curtis Scott and co. start blowing up your phone.

After about the fifth rejected phone call and tenth unread text, you acquiesce. “I’m sorry, darling. This _must_ be important.” Rafael waves at you to answer it. “Reverend, what is it?”

“Do you know Detective Nick Amaro from Manhattan SVU?”

“I know Amaro, yeah,” you agree.

“He just shot an unarmed black fourteen-year-old.”

“What?”

“His name is Yusuf Barré, and he’s on his way to the hospital. With any luck, he won’t die.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” you promise. “Text me the name of the hospital.”

 

“ _¿_ _Está bien?_ ” Rafael asks.

“Nick Amaro just shot an unarmed fourteen-year-old,” you tell him, gathering your things. You’re learning Spanish for him, but you’re nowhere near the level to have this conversation in anything but English.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. Reverend Scott just told me that the kid’s on the way to the hospital. I’ll forward you the address; will you get this boxed up and meet me there?”

“ _Claro_ ,” he agrees.

 

Following this case doesn’t earn you any friends in the NYPD, but you’re not in New York to make friends; you’re here to tell the victim’s story. With some help from Olivia, eyes-on-cops, every person in the video, and the Barrés, you make this blog post.

 

 

> _Part of a police officer’s job is to judge a situation on-the-fly. Unfortunately, the judgement isn’t always accurate and someone may be strangled to death on camera or paralyzed by a bullet. As close as I can understand them from a variety of sources, here are the facts relating to the shooting of 14-year-old Yusuf Barré by Detective Nick Amaro._
> 
> _Fact: Yusuf Barré is a good kid—he makes good grades, he has a lot of friends, and he dreams big for the future. He is going to work his hardest to make sure this doesn’t stop him. Fact: Detective Amaro admits to having two glasses of wine, and his blood-alcohol content was .049 almost two hours after the shooting (this means he was legally impaired when the shooting occurred). Fact: Detective Rollins offered to chase the suspect, but Amaro insisted that she stay with the downed officer while he chased. Fact: Police are legally allowed to stop you for the simple act of running. Fact: Officer McKenna told Detective Amaro that there was a gun, but he never saw one himself. Fact: Before editing, Detective Amaro can be heard saying, “he doesn’t speak English” in the eyes-on-cops video. Fact: McKenna decided to enter the hall and began shooting. Fact: McKenna was hit by a ricochet from her own gun. Fact: It took CSU 24 hours to figure that out; Amaro did not have that time. Fact: Amaro dragged the McKenna to safety and fired “until the shooting stopped”. Fact: Since Yusuf Barré had no gun, Amaro shot until he himself stopped shooting. Fact: Later, three other people shot through Amaro’s window, putting his mother and daughter in danger. Fact: Amaro chased them with a bat._
> 
> _Fact: Detective Amaro shot an unarmed black teenager._
> 
> _Fact: He only started shooting because the Officer McKenna was hit._
> 
> _Fact: He chased two boys with a baseball bat._
> 
> _Fact: They could have killed his daughter._
> 
> _Police brutality is increasing in publicity, and that publicity is important to ending these crimes. In the US, you are legally allowed to video any interaction with the police (in 10 states you will need the consent of any party who is not an on-duty police officer, and in 2 states you technically need permission from_ ALL _parties)—in all states you must inform the officer that you are recording, even if you don’t need permission; if you are in a state that is not Massachusetts or Illinois and an officer tells you to turn your camera off (they shouldn’t, but they might), say something like, “I’m just exercising my constitutionally-protected right to document police activity.” If they threaten to arrest you (recording police is not a crime, as long as you don’t physically interfere with their job, but there are catchall crimes like obstruction and disorderly conduct you could be charged with—and probably acquitted), either say on the recording that you do so under protest or remind them again that you have the right to document police activity, and prepare for the possibility of arrest. Do not resist, but try to avoid dropping the camera._
> 
> _Unfortunately, there are relatively few supports for victims of police brutality, and I could not find a hotline to provide._
> 
> _I know Nick Amaro personally, though I don’t think either of us particularly likes the other. However, I don’t believe that he shot Yusuf Barré with racist intentions. I think he believed when McKenna told him there was a gun, and he tried to protect her. There is a huge problem with racial profiling and excessive force in the criminal justice system, but if anyone is guilty of that, it’s Officer McKenna, who began the chase and who started shooting. Detective Nick Amaro is guilty of believing what she told him._

 

As a journalist, you try your best to present the facts without bias, which is difficult when you have to keep reminding Olivia that “it was a good shooting” is opinion, not fact. You really don’t believe Amaro shot Barré with malicious intent, but you do think he needs to face consequences for his actions. Basically, he gets a slap on the wrist and a stern, “Don’t do that again.”

 

***

 

It’s six weeks later before you deal with the team again. You’re on the way to dinner with Rafael when he gets a call asking him to come to the station; he quickly tells the driver the new address.

“Josh didn’t egg us on. It was just a joke; it’s part of his act,” one boy insists.

“But you did grab Renee, right? Frighten her?” Amaro asks.

“Just messing around. She’s gotta lighten up.”

In the next interrogation room, another boy asks, “C’mon, the girl can’t take a joke? I like Renee.”

“You sure got a funny way of showing it,” Fin decides.

“I felt bad. She got heckled on stage. We were just trying to have some fun.”

In the hall, Rafael sighs. “College idiots.”

“They did assault Renee. They knew that she was a survivor and an activist on campus. They targeted her,” Olivia says.

“I can ask for a temporary restraining order,” Rafael offers, “but maybe she should change dorms.” He walks away, fiddling with his phone to see if he can still keep your reservation.

“Ah, so it’s the victim who should change her life?” Olivia and Amanda share a look. “What about Galloway?”

“Gallow-who?” Rafael looks up.

“Josh Galloway, the comic,” Amanda explains. “He’s kind of a big deal, one of those snarky cable TV hosts. One of _People_ magazine’s most eligible comedians.”

Still checking on your reservation, Rafael interrupts, “Wait, now, hold up. This guy…assaulted Renee too?” Now he looks up, at Olivia going into her office and then Amanda, still standing in front of him. You take his phone to worry with the reservations.

“No,” Olivia interjects, “but he did verbally assault her. He _incited_ those boys.”

“He made some joke about how it would be funny if she were gang raped,” Amanda expounds.

“You have heard of free speech, right?” Rafael asks. Olivia sighs, rolls her whole body (not just her eyes), and continues into her office. Rafael raises his voice to make his meaning clear, “I cannot charge a guy with bad joke telling.”

“What about hate speech?” Olivia tries. “I mean, he’s basically advocating rape. Sean and Chad heard his act, then they followed Renee out. That makes Galloway an accessory. If I tell a guy with a gun I want my husband dead...”

“False equivalency. You’d have to prove his intent,” Rafael insists.

“Are there any other charges against this guy? Assault and harassment, in particular?” you inquire, handing Rafael his phone back. “It’s settled.”

“Nothing on record, but we can do some digging,” Amanda answers.

“Well, why don’t we go to him first? And tell him that the girl that he dragged up on stage and humiliated was assaulted by two of his fans?” Olivia suggests.

“Great, let me know what happens,” Rafael says, guiding you out with a hand on your back.

You put your hand on Rafael’s arm to stop him and turn to Olivia. “If nothing else, I’m told the court of public opinion can be _brutal_. If you can’t pursue this legally, perhaps your victim will tell me her story.” You look back at Rafael, “Shall we?”

 

In the end, Renee decides to buy an eyeglass camera and see if he’ll allow her to leave once she comes up to the room with him; he isn’t happy to, but she manages to escape. In order to avoid attempted rape charges, Galloway agrees to be put on the registered sex offenders’ list for ten years. Renee sends you the video of Galloway trying to rape her and saves a copy for herself. Rafael insists that the video can never see the light of day, but maybe one day you’ll accidentally upload it to your blog instead of a different video with a similar title. Technology can be so tetchy.

 

***

 

Thankfully, your cases don’t often overlap with Rafael’s. Amelia—you still keep in touch with her, and she’s doing well—nearly ripped your heart in two. Unfortunately, a lot of the cases that aren’t pursued are rape cases, so just a week before your anniversary, you and Rafael end up on the same case once more. There’s a young girl who’s done porn to make her way through school, and she gets raped by two classmates who saw some of her videos.

 

You don’t actually purposefully get on the case—in fact, you’re not on it at all; you’re just meeting Rafael for lunch, and you happen to see a video they’ve paused.

“Oh my God. That’s Roxxxanne,” you say. After a pause, “She really is eighteen, right?”

“Her name is Evie, and barely,” Olivia says.

“You subscribe to _18 With a Bang_?” Rafael asks.

“I subscribe to a similar site—it’s a gay-for-pay setup, and I just so happened to subscribe while they were offering a free subscription to _18 With a Bang_ ,” you explain. “And I’m pretty sure she goes by Roxxxanne later—three x’s.”

“This is the only video she told us about, and we didn’t find any others,” Carisi says.

“It’s behind the paywall,” you tell them. “Here, let me—” you log in and then search for Roxxxanne. “It’s pretty hardcore. The only time I can digest [dissected women](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bXey2_i7GOA) is in a BDSM format, where I can pretend they like it.”

“There are _twelve_ additional videos,” Rafael questions, “in which she does hardcore BDSM?”

“Not hardcore BDSM, no, but definitely rough,” you correct. “And I think there’s one with at _least_ five men tag-teaming her. That’s not to say, of course, that she deserves whatever brought her to the attention of SVU, but I imagine you’ll need to know that before the trial.”

Rafael turns to the door of Olivia’s office, saying, “I hate this case,” as he walks out.

“You subscribe to a gay-for-pay site?” Carisi asks.

“Oh, because your porn about a bunch of lesbians _begging for cock_ is much more realistic,” you snark, following Rafael out.

 

“Raffi?” you ask, finally finding him outside the station.

“I hate this case.”

“What happened to her?”

“Two boys invited her to pre-game and raped her,” Rafael says. “But good luck getting a jury to believe that, with _thirteen_ tag-team rough porn videos.”

“ _Lo siento_ , Rafael.”

“I have to do what I can to help her,” Rafael sighs. “I just wish I could be more assured that I wouldn’t have to put her through a trial for nothing.”

“Well, I could murder the rapists,” you offer.

“‘ADA’s SO Murders Rape Suspects,’” Rafael imagines aloud. “‘Just before their first anniversary, ADA Rafael Barba’s significant other murders accused rapists the ADA knew he couldn’t put away. This comes less than a year after he ruined Alejandro Muñoz’s chances at mayor and effectively destroys any remaining chance he had of moving up the political ladder.’”

“Why is _my_ news story based around _you_?” you gripe.

 

Rafael does get a guilty verdict from the jury, but at sentencing, the judge overturns the conviction. Rafael promises to appeal. You write a blog post about the case.

 

 

> _Sex work is a dangerous business. Not only can it ruin your reputation, it can lead others to view you as less-than-human, something not deserving of the rights afforded to other people; this happened to Evie (AKA Roxxxanne Demay). Here are the facts._
> 
> _Fact: 21.4% of women working as escorts have been raped 10 times or more, with comparable numbers for other types of sex work. Fact: The average tuition and fees can range from $9,410/year for in-state public universities to $23,893/year for out-of-state public universities and can reach well over $50,000/year for private colleges. Fact: 1 in 20 students turn to sex work to pay for university in the UK. In the US, around 1 million of the 6.5 million female college students are on “Seeking Arrangement,” a site connecting young women to sugar daddies—essentially a legal form of prostitution, and this is only one website for one type of sex work. Fact: No matter how hard-core the porn, the actors can stop at any moment, simply by using a safe word (Roxxxanne’s is “cut”). Fact: All negotiations about script and actors happen_ before _filming. Even the most realistic rape-fantasy porn is just a show. Fact: Sex worker are just as human as single mothers or nuns or the Queen of England, and they deserve to be treated as such._
> 
> _Violence against sex workers is a huge problem. If you or someone you know have been raped in the US, please call 911 or 800-656-4673 (National Sexual Assault Telephone Hotline). If you live in the UK, please call 999 or 08 08 16 89 111 (Victim Support)._
> 
> _Other facts: You cannot sell a product if there is no demand for it; perhaps instead of punishing women who are doing their best to survive, society and police should attack the_ demand _for these services._

 

The next day is your anniversary. You’re supposed to meet Rafael at his place at eight, but you’re in the area at seven thirty, so you decide to go up. Rafael had given you his extra key without much fanfare—just a text telling you that he’d gone to work and to keep the spare key when you left. You tried to return it the next time you saw him, but he ignored you; he isn’t very good at being vulnerable.

 

You unlock the door at 7:32, and Rafael doesn’t even seem to notice you, rushing around in the kitchen with an older woman, going faster than light in Spanish.

“ _Mami, tenemos que darnos prisa. Mi amor es siempre tempra—_ ”

“ _Sí, ¡siempre, siempre! Me dijiste—muchos tiempos_.”

“Am I interrupting?” you ask, still hardly inside the door.

“ _¡Mi corazón!_ ” Rafael takes your hands and pulls you in for a kiss. “You’re early,” he turns his head to the woman still working furiously in the kitchen, “which is what I just told you, _Mami_.”

“ _¡Oye!_ Don’t get smart with me, Rafael!”

Rafael drops your hands to plant a kiss on his mother’s head. “ _Lo siento, Mami_.”

“I thought we were going out?” you question. “It smells like you’re cooking.”

“I never said we were going out,” Rafael corrects. “You said you wanted to try authentic Cuban food, so here it is.”

“Raffi! You called your mother to help cook our anniversary dinner?” you ask, putting a hand to your heart in endearment.

“ _Claro_ ,” Rafael says. “No one cooks like _Mami_.”

“ _Te amo_ , Rafael.”

 

“Well, I’ll be off, then!” Rafael’s mother announces.

“Oh, no. Stay,” you propose.

“What?” Rafael asks.

“This looks like way too much food, you always complain that you don’t see your mother enough, and I’d like to meet _Mami_ eventually,” you explain.

“I just spent five hours with my mother cooking dinner, and it’s our anniversary,” Rafael counters.

“You did what? Didn’t you have court today?”

“I did. It was appeals, so it was over by lunch. I got my mother, took her to lunch, and we’ve been cooking since.”

“How can I allow your mother to leave when I don’t even know her name and she’s spent _five hours_ cooking for me?” you turn away from Rafael and hold your hand out to his mother, introducing yourself. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Please stay for dinner; it’s the least we can do.”

“My name is Lucia, and I don’t think Raffi wants me to stay.”

“Well, it’s my anniversary, so what I say goes,” you say.

Rafael laughs and steps forward to wrap an arm around you. He kisses your head, “If you’re both happy with it, then stay, _Mami_.”

 

They did make way too much food, even when the three of you are eating. There’s [sopa de pollo](http://www.bigoven.com/recipe/sopa-de-pollo-cuban-style-chicken-soup/172613) to start, then [papa rellena](http://allrecipes.com/recipe/217840/papas-rellenas-fried-stuffed-potatoes/) and [enchilado de camerones](http://www.arrozyfrijoles.com/seafood/enchilado-de-camarones) for the main dish, [plántanos maduros fritos](http://www.dominicancooking.com/386-fritos-maduros-fried-ripe-plantains.html) for dessert, and [Cuba libres](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cuba_Libre) to drink.

 

“Rafael, how upset would you be if I died on our anniversary?”

“Pretty upset,” Rafael responds. “Why?”

“I ate too much. I’m already dead. Tell your mother I love her.”

Rafael laughs. “You love anyone who cooks for you.”

“Did your mother cook for me?” you ask.

“She did most of it, yes,” Rafael confirms.

“Then _te quiero, Mami_.”

Lucia laughs. “ _Y te quiero_.”

 

Lucia leaves shortly after dinner, and you and Rafael settle in for a movie. You enter a food coma about halfway through the movie, so you aren’t sure how it ends, but this was probably the best anniversary ever (and you’re pretty sure you told Rafael that out loud).


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sort of Amanda-centric, but I feel like the reader needs a life outside of the adorable Rafael Barba.

Though you’re thankful not to have many cases that overlap with Rafael’s, you do go to many of his trials, and you tend to sit next to the SVU team. If any of the team (except Carisi; he’s new and Raffi takes a while to warm up to people, especially people who seem so eager to have him like them) is in Rafael’s office when you bring lunch by, the two of you invite them to stay. So, you’re not total strangers with Rafael’s work wife, which you guess is nice.

 

The day after your anniversary, you and Rafael agree to meet at the station and head to a bar together, but when you arrive at the station, Rafael is nowhere to be seen.

“Amanda, dear. Do you know where Rafael is?”

“He and Liv left about half an hour ago. They were talking about going to his office,” she says.

“Well,” you declare, “I guess we’re not going out, then.”

“Oh no!” Amanda puts her hand on your arm. “Isn’t it your anniversary?”

“That was yesterday,” you shake your head, “and if you caught a new case, it’s not unusual for Rafael to get distracted by it the first day or so.”

“You are really understanding,” Amanda laughs. “I’d never give him the leeway you do.”

“I’m pretty scattered, too, so I guess it works out,” you smile. “Hey, we were just gonna go grab a drink. Would you want to join me?”

Amanda hesitates for a second, but then she gives an enthusiastic, “Sure!” and goes to get her coat.

 

This becomes a regular event, whenever the team sends a case to trial. Sometimes Liv joins you for a round before heading home to Noah, and either Nick or Carisi are usually there, but you and Amanda never fail.

 

***

 

It’s not long before Rafael ends up on a pretty clear case of spousal abuse that the wife is reluctant to follow up on.

“I just don’t get it,” he confesses. “My mother—” he stops. Even after a year, he doesn’t go there, although you have a pretty good idea. “Why do women stay in abusive relationships? Why do they defend the people who do this?”

“There’s actually a hashtag going around of people sharing why they stayed with abusive partners. Basically, though, frogs jump out if you put them in boiling water but they’ll stay if the water gets hot gradually. The abuser starts small—degrading and gaslighting—and then works up to physical violence. Isolation is common, and the abuser usually controls the assets. It’s really difficult to leave an abusive partner, but when the fear of what will happen if they stay finally outweighs the fear of what will happen if they leave, they’ll find their strength,” you say. “Leaving an abusive partner isn’t an event, unfortunately; it’s a process. You started the ball rolling, and that’s all you can do.”

Rafael kisses you. “ _Te amo, mi corazón_.”

“ _Te amo_ , Raffi.”

 

Still, it’s clear that this case affects Rafael a lot. The next day, you bring takeaway to his office for lunch, and you sit with your feet in his lap as you type up another entry, stealing bites of his food and ignoring when he steals yours, enjoying each other’s presence despite the quiet. Suddenly, he breaks the silence.

“ _Mi cariño_.”

“Mmm,” you hum around a bite of food. You swallow, “One moment, darling. Let me finish this paragraph.” There’s a few more moments of silence before you look up. “What’s up?”

“If I—” Rafael pauses. “I want leaving me to be an event, _cariño_. If I’m ever not good for you, I want that to be the end of us.”

You take your feet out of his lap so that you can lean closer to him, putting your hand on his face and stroking your thumb along his cheek. “You’re not him.”

“He’s half my DNA, and he raised me,” Rafael argues. “Anyway, that’s not the point. Promise me that you’ll leave if I’m not good for you.”

“It is the point, Rafael. You are so gentle with me, okay? And the way you talk to your Mami; you know that we’re people. I know men who have been raised by abusive fathers, and the way you treat Mami is such a far cry from how they treat their mothers that I’m honestly confused how you could even worry about it,” you tell him. “But I promise: someone in this relationship will always look after me, even if that has to be me.”

Rafael leans into your hand, placing a kiss on your palm. “Good.”

“For the nonce, though, you’re not doing too bad a job at it yourself,” you grin. He smiles back, and you pull him in for a kiss.

 

That night, you post the blog entry you were working on, and add one to the backlog of drafts for when you can’t write a new post.

 

> _‘She tried to pretend he wasn’t drinkin’ again/But daddy’d left the proof on her cheek/…/Some folks whispered and some folks talked/But everybody looked the other way.’ – Martina McBride, “Independence Day”_
> 
> _Domestic violence is an unfortunately common problem, but America is the worst of the industrialized countries on this front. Nearly 1/3 of American women have been abused by an intimate partner in their lifetimes, and 1 in 10 American children are mistreated. What happens to children who grow up seeing one of their parents be abused or who are abused themselves? Woefully little research has been done, but these are the facts._
> 
> _Fact: Children who grow up in abusive homes can develop an array of physical problems along with panic or dissociative disorders, ADHD, major depressive disorder, anger management problems, and PTSD. Fact: Children who see physical or verbal aggression between their parents, or who are victims of that aggression, have a hard time comprehending and controlling their emotions and tend to perceive others’ emotions as more negative than they actually are. The increased physiological stress lays the groundwork for later difficulty interpreting social indicators. Fact: Researchers place the number of abused children who grow up to become abusers between 1 in 8 (12.5%) and 1 in 3 (33%). Fact: Regardless of where it falls on this spectrum, this means the majority of victims do not then turn into perpetrators._
> 
> _If one or both of your parents was abusive to you or to your other parent, you are not at fault. Awareness of your increased risk for becoming abusive will help you more actively monitor your own behaviours to stop you from becoming the person you were terrified of as a child. I strongly suggest either going to therapy or to a support group that deals with your experiences, so that you can better manage your own reactions to events in your life._
> 
> _‘every time you/tell your daughter/you yell at her/out of love/you teach her to confuse/anger with kindness/which seems like a good idea/till she grows up to/trust men who hurt her/cause they look so much/like you’ – Rupi Kaur, “to fathers with daughters”_

 

Rafael gets a conviction for reckless endangerment, but the wife isn’t happy, and you can tell that it’s a hollow victory for him. He normally texts you his verdicts, but he just shows up at your house that night, when you’re already in bed, takes his suit off, and lies down next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you offer.

“I just want to hold you.”

You put your laptop aside and turn the light off, deciding that it’s okay to be done for the night.

 

***

 

Since she realized she was going to have to go to Atlanta for the Pattern 17 case, Amanda’s been complaining about APD to you. She never tells you exactly why she left, but you get the sense that something serious happened to prompt it. So when, about a week after she gets back, the Deputy Chief of the Atlanta PD, Amanda’s old captain, and a few APD detectives come into town for a police convention, you’re not surprised by the late-night phone call. You join her for a drink and eventually have to pour her into a cab before heading home.

 

A few days later, you’re out on your morning jog when you meet up with Amanda, as per usual. You greet each other and jog in silence for a while, but then you can’t help it. “Amanda?”

“What’s up?”

“It’s completely fine if you don’t want to tell me, but Raffi may have let something slip about the deputy chief at APD. You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” Amanda says. “I wasn’t raped, okay?”

“If that helps you sleep at night,” you agree.

Amanda stops. “It’s not like that, okay? He didn’t force me.”

“Could you have said no? Could you have gotten up and walked away without repercussions?” She looks away from you. “So the answer is no, isn’t it?” Still no answer. “Then you were raped, darling. Pretending it didn’t happen doesn’t mean it didn’t.”

Amanda sighs. “I don’t really feel like running anymore.”

You nod. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

 

“ _Mi amor_ ,” Rafael greets, walking out of his office as you approach it. “You look beautiful as always.”

“I look like I ran extra because Amanda and I might be in a fight and she normally drives me to the subway.”

“ _¿Qué pasó?_ ” Rafael asks, placing a hand on your back to guide you in the direction he’s going.

“I might have asked her about the deputy chief at APD and forced her to confront the fact that she was raped,” you say. “She told me she didn’t feel like running anymore and left me.”

“ _Lo siento, mi corazón_. Maybe she’ll testify, though. You did the right thing.”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “If she could pretend it didn’t happen, why should I make her accept it?”

“Because denial isn’t the way to deal with things?”

You breathe out a laugh and kiss Rafael. “Where are you headed?”

“To get a warrant for Deputy Chief Patton’s arrest for Rape I.”

“Oh, wow. _Buena suerte_.”

“He’s not NYPD, so it shouldn’t be too big of an issue. But thank you, _mi amor_ ,” Rafael says, holding an arm out to hail a cab. “I’ll see you later?”

“Of course.”

 

The day after Patton is arrested, Rafael joins you on your run. You’re about to meet up with Amanda where you normally do (she was waiting for you because Raffi made you late), but she spots Rafael and starts running before you reach her.

“Rollins,” Rafael calls, trying to speed up. “Rollins!” She still doesn’t acknowledge him, so he does speed up, “Rollins, come on. Don’t make me hurt myself!” You catch up with her and apologise before Rafael gets in hearing range of the two of you.

Amanda faces Rafael. “You’re stalking me now?”

“Okay, you weren’t returning my calls.”

“Yeah, I’m not testifying.”

“Amanda—” you try.

“Don't make me subpoena you,” Rafael implores.

“No, I’m not talking about me and Patton. Prior acts are inadmissible, and nothing really happened anyway,” Amanda dismisses.

“Look, if I don’t call you, the defence will. You heard Patton; they’re gonna claim you’re out for revenge. We’ve got to get in front of this.”

“They’re not gonna call me up to the stand. I—I’ve got to go. Liv hates it when I’m late.” Amanda leaves the pair of you behind.

“I didn’t invite him!” you call after her. You turn to Rafael. “Amanda and I are never going to have a nice run together again.”

“Maybe I’ll start joining you instead,” Rafael offers.

“You had a hidden agenda,” you scold, “and you _still_ complained the whole time. I’d rather run alone.”

“ _Me dueles_ ,” Rafael teases. “ _Te encanto_.”

“In your dreams!” you declare, racing ahead of him, laughing as he calls your name. You’ll stop for him soon, but for now, it’s time to play.

 

Patton has an anxiety attack on the stand a few days later and ends up pleading guilty to sexual abuse in the third degree. Amanda takes a few days off for personal time, but she’s waiting for you like always on the running path the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JSYK: I do research these facts, so they are actually facts. You can use them in arguments against people, if you want.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically 100% about 16.12 "Padre Sandunguero".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologize to anyone who read chapter three before this note went up. Apparently, I didn't edit it at all! If you see any more problems, please let me know. :)
> 
> A/N: Hey, guys! As of 12/12, I haven't even started on the next part. Finals and work and papers have slammed me, but I will return ASAP. I love this 'verse, so I will continue!

About two weeks after the case with APD, your blog wins a journalism award that you’d really been hoping for, so you decide to go to Rafael’s place (when he doesn’t call to say he’ll be working late, you usually stay there anyway) and cook fish and chips—real fish and chips, not that knock-off American nonsense. It’s around six o’clock, and you’re just finishing up when you hear Rafael’s key in the door. Despite the smell, he’s draping his jacket over a chair before he notices you, and he gives you a small, private smile.

“You’re wearing that stupid waistcoat again. I hate that waistcoat,” you complain.

Rafael pulls you in, his hands on your hips. “‘Every time I see that waistcoat, I want to take it off you,’ and ‘I hate that waistcoat’ aren’t exactly the same thing.”

“You smug bastard,” you smile, leaning in to kiss him.

He nuzzles into your neck, planting light kisses wherever he stops. “ _¿Cocinaste? ¿Tú?_ ” he pokes, tone full of mock-disbelief.

You hit him lightly and roll your eyes. “I cook.”

He drops another kiss to your neck. “What’s the occasion?”

“You know that journalism award I’ve been talking about?” you ask. He nods and hums that he does. “I won it.”

“ _¡Qué bueno!_ Congratulations, _mi amor_.”

“Thank you, darling. So, I cooked dinner to celebrate.”

“Is that… fish and chips?” Rafael laughs, small at first, but then it really seems to strike him, and he spends a solid two minutes cackling about your choice of meal.

“Do you have a problem?!” you demand between your own laughs.

Rafael straightens himself, wipes at his eyes, and says, “It’s been a really long day; I needed that.”

“And just _what_ is so funny about my fish and chips?!” you inquire again, barely containing your giggles.

“I don’t really know. It,” Rafael stifles another laugh, “it’s very British of you.”

“You can’t find decent fish and chips in the States; they don’t even use the right fish—it’s awful!” you grumble. You’ve had this conversation many times, so Rafael knows exactly where it’s going.

He puts his hands on your face and pulls you in for a kiss. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

“ _Te amo_ , Raffi.”

“ _Te amo, mi cariño_ ,” Rafael smiles. “Shall we eat?”

You plate the food, putting it on the table, and Rafael pulls your chair out for you.

 

The two of you eat and then sit down for a movie, although Rafael decided that your award warranted a bottle of champagne with dinner, and so you’re just as happy to ignore the movie in favour of coaxing Rafael out of that stupid waistcoat. Rafael’s pretending to be more interested in the movie than in you, but you know that it’s an act. So you continue your advances, backing away when Rafael swats at you and coming back when he turns his palm up on the couch, and you’ve rid him of that awful waistcoat and even gotten him onto his back—you on top of him, clearly—when his phone rings. Rafael groans, dropping his head onto the arm of the couch.

“Do you have to get it?” you try, though you know the answer.

Rafael doesn’t respond; he just sighs and levers himself up, searching for his phone. “Barba.” “He did _what?_ ” “Can this wait until morning? Do you think it’s urgent?” “Okay, I’ll come by first thing tomorrow.”

 

“ _¿Está bien?_ ” you ask, running your hands up his chest. He did say, after all, that he’d come by tomorrow.

“Amaro might have told his dad’s fiancée, whose skull his father allegedly fractured, to say it wasn’t his father.”

“I don’t buy it. Nick hates his dad; why would he tell a victim to change her story?”

“I don’t know,” Rafael sighs. “Cases like this make me want to call Mami.”

“It’s a little late, don’t you think? Besides, we were in the middle of something,” you wink for effect.

Rafael laughs and pulls you back down.

 

The next morning, Rafael seems less-than-enthused about going in to figure this case out, and so—as you sometimes do when you can tell a case bothers Rafael—you get ready and go with him. If anyone asks, you are a certified barrister and outside opinions can be beneficial, but no one ever asks; Rafael never even asks. This time, though, you also schedule lunch with Mami.

 

“Is this your case?” you ask, grabbing Rafael’s arm to stop him at a newsstand. “‘Crazy Cubans in Wedding Brawl,’” you recite, picking up the newspaper. Rafael pays for it, and you read the story to him on your way to the police station.

 

Nicolas claims that he went after someone named Javier, who he had reason to believe was assaulting Gabriela downstairs, claiming that he’d never hit a woman, and Olivia explains that—after seeing Nicolas ice his hand and finding Gabriela bloodied in the bathroom—Gabriela’s father started a fight which soon consumed the entire pre-wedding party the night before. Rafael rolls his eyes. “You know, Cubans come to this country, and within one generation, we’re doctors, lawyers, CEOs of major corporations, but the only headline you ever read in the paper is ‘crazy Cubans in wedding brawl.’ I hate this.”

“Look, none of us want to be here, but this guy is guilty,” Liv assures him.

“You seem awfully sure. Is there anything else I need to know?”

“Yeah. There is,” Liv nods. She tells you that—apparently—Nicolas is a repeat offender, and the reason Nick hates his dad so much is that he used to beat Nick’s mother.

Rafael’s expression pretty clearly reads, “If I thought it would kill me, I’d bang my head against a wall.”

 

Lunch with Mami, at least, is a pleasant surprise. Perhaps because he so rarely sees her, Rafael is always happy to spend time with Mami, and he kisses you soundly when he realises you set this up.

 

Initially, Rafael tells Nick to stay far, far away from this case, but when Nicolas refuses to take a plea deal—citing his honour—Rafael has to get Nick to testify.

“But last I heard, you wanted me to stay away,” Nick protests.

“I did, _pero, tu padre_ —who’s even more stubborn than you are—” you can feel Rafael’s eyeroll in your _bones_ , but you’re sitting on the arm of his chair and you can’t see if he _actually_ rolls his eyes or just implies it, “wouldn’t take a plea. He says his honour’s too important.”

“Well, that’s not my problem. Well, look, there were a hundred people at that party and I wasn’t one of them,” Nick insists.

“And none of them saw the fight. You’re the one who Gabriela made her outcry to, Nick,” Olivia urges. “You’re also the only one who can testify that it was part of a pattern.”

You expected Nick to be angry, but his voice gets quiet and he almost sounds defeated when he asks, “You told him about that? Those were private conversations.”

“It was pertinent, Nick. I had to inform.”

“Inform is right.” Now he sounds angry, and he walks behind Rafael’s chair to the door, asking, “You enjoying this? Huh?”

“No,” Rafael assures him. Sensing he’s out of time with Nick, he says the next part quickly. “If your father sees your name on a list, maybe he’ll plea it out.”

“And what if he doesn’t? I mean, how do I explain that to the rest of my family?” Nick leaves after that, and you turn to Rafael.

“Would you not testify against your father?”

Rafael dodges the question, getting up and grabbing his jacket. “My father’s dead.”

“You wouldn’t, would you?” Rafael begins putting his jacket on as you speak, and you don’t have to be a cop to know he’s literally running away from the question. “He’s been dead fifteen years and you still won’t talk about it, but you wouldn’t testify against him,” you discover. “ _Why?_ ”

“ _Familia_ ,” is the only answer Rafael gives before leaving you with Olivia in her office.

“So that’s Latinx culture,” you sigh. “Think I should chase after him?”

“Maybe give him a minute,” Olivia replies. “I’m gonna grab some coffee. Want some?”

“Sure, I’ll join you.”

 

By the time you and Olivia finish your crappy, breakroom coffee, Rafael is nowhere to be found, so you head to his house to get some work done on your blog.

 

 

> _Somehow, I end up near a lot of domestic violence cases, and while that bothers me enough, here are some other things I (having never been abused) find problematic in the way we address intimate partner violence*._
> 
> _*Please note that while I use them interchangeably, intimate partner violence is actually a subcategory of domestic violence. DV is between any family members, IPV is specifically people in intimate relationships._
> 
>   1. **_Why do they stay?_** _Besides being none of our business, this shifts the blame to the victim, saying that the abuser wouldn’t be abusive if the victim would just leave. Not only is this untrue—many abusers chase victims across states—it makes the victim responsible for their own abuse._
>   2. **_“Abusive relationship”._** _Technically, the abuser is in an abusive relationship, too, aren’t they? Additionally, this spreads the blame, making it seem as though both the victim and the abuser are equally guilty. Instead, talk about this in terms of “abusive partners”._
>   3. **_What did they do?_** _OH MY GOD NO. Is there anything someone can do—besides take up a career in professional wrestling—that makes them deserving of a choke slam or a fractured skull? If you believe there is, please stay approximately 150 million kilometres (93 million miles) away from me._
>   4. **_If women want to be equal, can I punch them?_** _Well, newsflash, that’s already happening. Second, how often do you punch men? Third, you are perfectly allowed to defend yourself if you genuinely fear for your safety. But besides that, why are so many men’s idea of a perfect, equal utopia centred on violence against women? Especially considering that domestic violence is almost always gender inequality in action?_
>   5. **_Real men/women don’t abuse._**[ _Oh, shit! Must’ve been a ghost, then!_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j4m3AJamQYM)
> 

> 
> _If you are a victim of intimate partner violence, please call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 or call 911. I have vetted The Hotline for male victims and can assure you that they will be helpful regardless of your gender._

 

Rafael comes in after eight, carrying enough Chinese takeaway for the both of you.

“ _¿Quieres hablar?_ ” you ask, looking back down to your draft.

“ _Odio esto caso_ ,” he answers. “I wouldn’t help me; I doubt Amaro will.”

“ _Nick odia su padre mucho_ ,” you tell him. “ _Y se lo merece_. I think Nick’ll do the right thing.” When Rafael doesn’t say anything else, you eye the bag in his hand again. “What’s for dinner?”

He sits down next to you and pulls out the takeaway containers, smiling.

 

***

 

The day of opening statements, you decide to surprise Rafael at the courthouse with his favourite coffee. His jacket is on the rack, so you know he’ll be back. You don’t, however, expect him to be followed by Nicolas Amaro (Sr.) and D’Angelo, his lawyer.

“Talk fast, Mr. D’Angelo; we’re five minutes from opening statements.”

“Well, I can’t talk as fast as you, Mr. Barba, but here goes. In the interest of sparing his family any more embarrassment, my client is willing to plea to a crime that he did not commit,” D’Angelo says and Nicolas wanders closer to you and gets a cup of water.

“You know my office can't accept a plea without a genuine admission of guilt,” Rafael responds, a glimmer in his eye as he notices the stern look you give him about putting on a waistcoat.

“Well, you have no cooperating complainant. You have no eyewitnesses. I say we drop this down to a disorderly conduct, be done with it.”

“Disorderly conduct?!” you demand, at the same time Rafael says, “Dis-con? He cracked her skull.”

“Hey, I was defending my fiancée,” Nicolas insists, although he’s much too smug to be believable.

“Please. You think some jury’s gonna believe that?”

He assures Rafael that his daughter and his fiancée will testify for him. “Are you counting on my son? ‘Cause there’s something you should know. He’s never had the nerve to go up against his father. All right? He still doesn’t.”

“No wonder Nick doesn’t like him,” you scoff. Nicolas looks at you but doesn’t comment—assaulting the DA’s partner five minutes before trial wouldn’t exactly help his case. “He will testify, you know,” you tell Rafael. “His fury is still fresh. And you know Nick—he’ll either testify or shoot him.”

“That’s not funny,” Rafael chides quickly.

“It wasn’t a joke,” you shrug.

“Assault three,” Rafael offers. “Sixty days in Rikers.”

Now Nicolas scoffs. D’Angelo implores, “Nicolas, you're looking at serious time here. Please, for the sake of your family.”

Nicolas slams the book he was holding down on the desk and stands up. “I don't take crumbs. Especially from this—” he gets in Rafael’s face, “this gentleman who wears suspenders.” Nicolas leaves and, after a moment, his lawyer follows.

“I brought coffee,” you offer.

“ _Odio esto caso_ ,” Rafael says again, taking the coffee. He kisses you, “ _Pero te amo_.”

“ _Te amo,_ ” you smile. “Now _vamos!_ You don’t want to be late for court!” You smack him on the rear for good measure.

 

The first day does not go well, and Rafael asks to reconvene tomorrow so that he can meet with Nick one last time before his testimony. When you find out why he asked to end it for the day, you offer to go with him, but he tells you he needs to handle it alone.

 

Whatever Rafael says to him, Nick testifies, but it doesn’t do much good. It takes the jury twenty minutes to come back with a verdict of not guilty on all charges, and everyone on the team seems pretty upset. You and Rafael head home and pour some scotch.

“She’s going to marry him, you know,” you say, taking a pull of your first glass.

“I know,” Rafael sighs.

“Maybe she’ll get out before he kills her.”

“He almost did,” Rafael laughs bitterly. “And they’re not even married yet.”

You get up from your chair and sit on Rafael’s lap, finding an open-armed welcome. “You can’t save everyone.”

“Every now and then, it’d be nice to save _someone_ ,” he gripes, dropping his head onto your shoulder.

“Well there’s always me,” you smile.

Rafael smiles back and kisses you. “ _Sí, siempre hay ti._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple of notes on the Spanish: 1. I learned Spanish in Mexico, and it's been a while, so (especially if you are Cuban) if you are fluent in Spanish, please feel free to correct me (I'm currently worried about literally the last word in this chapter, because I'm not sure if I was supposed to use the objective form [I did].)  
> 2\. It's really tedious to do hovertext, so I'm not going to translate the things I've done several times before. Esta bien=Is everything/are you okay?; carino=darling; amor=love (noun); te amo=I love you.  
> 3\. Does anyone know a reflexive verb roughly equivalent to odiar? I'd like the parallelism of "se [hate] esto caso pero te amo."
> 
> Other notes:  
> 1\. I have never been abused, but my sister and my mother both have, so these are actual problems we have with this conversation. The woman in the show had her skull fractured, but the chokeslam/"what'd she do?" conversation really happened in my real life.  
> 2\. In the US, tilapia and halibut are common in fish and chips, but in the UK it's generally cod (sometimes haddock and less commonly other white fish).


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Decaying Morality" and "Intimidation Game". Rafael's job continues to wear on him (and you), but you come to an agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! This chapter was thrown together today, so I can't guarantee quality (I reserve the right to majorly edit or to scrap this chapter entirely). However, I feel like it's been ages since I've posted, and I love this 'verse.

The next week, Amanda comes back from her yoga retreat, so you, she, and Olivia go out to dinner and catch up. Amanda seems happy now, more relaxed than she’s been in a long time, and you and Olivia are both glad for the change.

 

To get home, you all walk in the same direction for a while, still talking about things at SVU and about Rollins’ amazing volcano yoga experience, but then Amanda comes to her turn, and you’ve all said goodbye (Amanda promising to be in early in the morning) when a scene breaks out. A young woman is screaming, kicking, and telling a man to get off her, as the man insists that he’s just trying to give her her purse. You all three go to the pair, Olivia identifying herself as police. She and Amanda get the man—still maintaining that he was trying to help her—away as you comfort the woman, but then she demands they arrest the man because he raped her. Once they cuff the man, Amanda comes to comfort the woman, and you bid them both goodnight. You hate rape cases.

 

You don’t think about the case again until you’re out with Rafael when he gets a call from Liv about it. He pulls you off the train at the next stop and tells you he’s going to the station, if you want to come along. He never offers, so you can tell this is shaping up to be a difficult case; you agree.

You get to the station and watch a video of Jenna’s (the young woman) father intimidating a confession out of the suspect—nail gun handy and firing—until the suspect (Jerome Jones) has a heart attack.

“It goes on from there. He did give CPR,” Fin says, turning off the video.

“Yeah, the M.E. thinks Jerome died of a heart attack triggered by his asthma,” Nick agrees.

“Luke Davis called 911. So he did not intend to kill Jerome,” Olivia adds.

“Legally it doesn’t make any difference,” Rafael dismisses.

“Well, that confession might complicate things,” Nick argues.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” you start. “I forgot we live in Cuba, where it’s legally admissible to torture a confession out of someone. For a moment there, I thought we lived in America, where we’re innocent until proven guilty in a court of law by a jury of our peers.”

“He was a suspect in _another_ rape case,” Nick reminds you.

“In which he was _also_ _not proven guilty_. _Accusations_ of prior bad acts as an excuse for _murder_? Not on my watch,” you promise.

“Either way, Luke Davis is looking at felony murder,” Rafael interrupts, cutting off the budding argument between you and Nick.

“You think? You do know the defendant gets a free pass on that if he can show he acted under extreme emotional duress,” Carisi offers.

“Booyah Fordham Law,” Rafael teases. “The facts are clear. Luke Davis kidnaps Jerome Jones, tortures him, within an hour, Jerome’s dead.”

“He may be dead; our job is to figure out whether or not he is _guilty_ ,” Olivia says. “So keep pushing for the DNA and get that security footage from TARU.”

“Yes. And if Jerome is good for the rape…” Fin trails off.

Nick finishes, “No way a jury convicts Luke.”

“Thank you for your support,” Rafael tells everyone. “If you come to the arraignment, keep your mouth shut.” He holds the door open to allow you out.

 

“You really think they won’t convict him? He tortured a man until he had a _heart attack_ ,” you stress.

“I don’t know, mi cariño. If Jones raped Davis’ daughter and we let him go, a jury might be sympathetic.”

“He _murdered_ someone. And I don’t know, I just get the feeling that Jones didn’t rape her. He seemed genuinely _surprised_ by the accusation, not angry or betrayed.”

“The team will find out.”

 

Jerome didn’t rape Jenna, her uncle did, but Luke still has to face up to what he’s done. Rafael meets with Jerome’s family about whether or not they’re okay with a plea deal.

“You were right. Jerome didn’t assault Jenna; he was trying to help her,” Rafael tells them.

“That’s what we said before. That’s not news to us.”

Rafael continues, “The girl was raped by her uncle. He knew her father, Luke, had a temper. He worked him up to kidnap Jerome.”

“Luke murdered my son,” Jerome’s mother insists.

“Her uncle is under arrest. He is being brought in now. He will pay the price, but Luke Davis was not trying to murder your son. We have footage of him attempting CPR. He wanted justice for his daughter. The way you want justice for Jerome.”

“What are you saying?” Jerome’s mother asks.

“If I take this to trial for felony murder, a jury may let Luke go. If he pleads to manslaughter, he will do time,” Rafael explains.

“How much? He gets a deal and my innocent son is dead? Whose life matters to you?” Jerome’s mother questions.

“I’m so sorry for your loss. What happened to Jerome was horrible. I wish I could bring him back,” Rafael pleads. “But this is where we are.”

When she doesn’t answer, you cut in. “I cannot _imagine_ how hard this must be, knowing that lynching are alive and well on just the accusation of a white woman, but—knowing what I do about this system—I would support the plea deal. He murdered your son, and there’s a good chance a jury will let him off,” you shake you head. “Either way, though, I’d like to write about your son and other people of colour murdered for crimes they never got a trial for, if you’d be willing to help.”

“You can’t possibly understand the fear of being a black man’s mother,” she tells you.

“I know, and honestly I’m glad for that. But it’s my responsibility as a person with privilege to use my undeserved position to lift a microphone to your mouth.”

“You think he should get a deal?” she asks.

“I don’t think he’ll do time any other way,” you state, defeated. “I’ve seen too many people walk after murdering people of colour for the suspicion of being suspicious. I just don’t trust a jury to do the right thing here.”

She nods. “Okay. Okay,” she sighs. “Give him the deal.”

 

***

 

The next week you post on your blog.

> _On a lighter note than usual, I’m going to the International Video Game League Finals, and I’m going to try to meet Raina Punjabi, who’s creating_ Amazon Warriors _, which I’m so excited about, omg. Maybe I’ll be able to take my mind off crime for a little._

 

However, Raina’s partner gets sexually assaulted at IVL, and you’re about to go into the bathroom when her assailants run out, so you end up at the station, talking to a sketch artist. They catch the guys who did that, but then Raina gets kidnapped, and—being specifically invested in her successful rescue—you tag along when Rafael goes to the station.

 

You clear everything with Liv and Rafael before you post anything, but you put updates up as you’re allowed.

> _Police advised Punjabi to cancel the press conference or to push back the release until they could arrest whomever it was making specific threats against her (not protected by the First Amendment), but she refused to let her terrorizers win. Instead, police guarded the area, but a technical malfunction was used as a distraction in order to kidnap Punjabi. The search is ongoing._
> 
> _Punjabi’s abductors have posted video of themselves raping Ms. Punjabi online. I was unwarned and watched it with the police, but to save you the trouble, it’s horrifying. Not only that, but also watching a video of someone being raped is almost as bad as raping them in the first place._
> 
> _The kidnappers are demanding that Raina cancel the game and admit that women do not belong in the gaming industry._
> 
> _Steven Kaplan, Ms. Punjabi’s fiancé, is understandably distraught, and he wants the abductors to know that he will pay any sum to get his fiancée back safely._
> 
> _The suspects are apparently following the plot of_ Kill or Be Slaughtered _(KOBS), the game that competitors were playing at IVL, where Punjabi’s co-worker was sexually assaulted, and the game which_ Amazon Warriors _is set to dethrone, should it be released._
> 
> _After a horrific, gruelling experience, Raina Punjabi has been rescued by NYPD’s Special Victims Unit. She has agreed to testify against the perpetrator who did not take a plea bargain, but she is no longer planning to release_ Amazon Warriors _. This entry will be updated with trial details._

 

You collapse on the couch as soon as you get into Rafael’s apartment. He follows you in, locking the door behind himself.

“Do you want some scotch?” he offers.

“No, thank you, but you have some if you want it. Just, do it sort of quickly so that you can come over here and hold me.”

Rafael gets his drink with more speed than usual and sits on the couch, pulling you against himself. “ _¿Quieres hablar?_ ”

“This—” you sigh. “How do you do it? I know that sometimes this job gets to you, but all you have to do is tell me about your day before it gets to me. I saw a video of a woman being raped because she wanted to make video games that the majority of gamers, women, could relate to. I just—how are you still such a good person, still so normal?”

Rafael plants a kiss on the top of your head. “I’m glad you think that, even if that only makes one of us sometimes. This job can make me feel like I’m ripping apart some days; I can hardly stand it. But I know I’m doing the right thing. Someone has to fight for these victims, cariño, and nobody ever wants to. Society is still too willing to believe that people can invite rape, so rape cases are hard to prosecute. But if I don’t do it, there are too few others who will.”

“Just promise me, Raffi, if it gets too much you’ll take a break. We can go on vacation together,” you suggest. “You can’t save everyone, and I don’t honestly think seeing their rapist put away will do much to help them heal, so don’t push yourself. If you need a break from this constant horror that my day—and I’m sure yours—has been, promise me you’ll take it.”

“I know I can’t save everyone,” Raffi acknowledges. “I also know that I make a difference, though, and so do you. Your blogs help people that I can’t, but you deal with crime every day, too. If you promise to take breaks, I promise I will.”

“I think we’ve got ourselves a deal, _quierido_ ,” you grin.

He leans down to kiss you. “Good. Now how about you show me this deep and abiding love you’ve apparently got for video games?”

“Well, my darling, it could never come close to the deep and abiding love I have for you, but it is a serious commitment. Shall we start with _Kill or Be Slaughtered?_ ”

You spend the rest of the night laughing, eating junk food, and kicking Rafael’s digital ass. When you’re done with that, maybe there will be asses of the notably-less-digital variety to pay attention to. For now, though, the two of you enjoy yourselves, forgetting about the terrible world that exists beyond these walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: a short about Rafael meeting Carisi and complaining to you about him! (I'm coming around to Carisi, but I don't like him at all in his first episode.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a tiny thing I wrote when I realized that I hadn't covered Rafael meeting Carisi. I don't hate Carisi, but I'm only starting to come around to liking him at all...

“Another Ellie Porter case?” you ask, helping Rafael out of his jacket. Lately, you can tell when the case has to do with the work-wife’s kid: he looks tired, older. You know he’s concerned for Olivia; she’s been through a lot with Lewis and Noah, and you’re concerned, too. But Rafael is really close with her, so the idea that something that makes her so happy, that brings her peace—Noah—could be snatched away by some lowlife pimp and his human trafficking boss really worries Rafael.  
“I don’t know that this will ever be over,” Rafael sighs. “To make matters worse, Liv got a new detective on her team and he promised one of the girls T-nonimmigrant status, but he has no way to deliver on that. If we don’t, though, she won’t talk about Ellie Porter or Little Tino.”  
“Oh, _mi amor._ Do you want some tea?”  
“Scotch would be better.” Rafael plops onto his couch, leaning against the arm, and puts his feet up.  
“Irish tea?” you joke, turning the kettle on. “I’m going to have some Earl Grey, but you’re perfectly welcome to just have some scotch, if you like.”  
“ _¿Por qué no los dos?_ ”  
You laugh. “All right, then. Both.” You pour Rafael two fingers of scotch and walk over to him. He pulls you into his lap and accepts the scotch. You sit like that for several minutes, Rafael sipping his scotch with your head leaning back against his shoulder, until the kettle is done. You sigh, starting to get up, when Rafael pulls you back down, this time beside him.  
“I’ll get it. You like your Earl Grey plain, right?”  
“Claro,” you nod. “That’s the only way to have it.”  
“Well, you’ll excuse me for adding milk and sugar,” Rafael teases.  
“I will never understand how the man who drinks his coffee strong and black can’t take his tea the same way,” you return. Rafael puts his hand to his heart and makes a wounded face, but he doesn’t respond. He just pours your tea, makes his own (sneaking the rest of his scotch into the tea), and brings them back to the couch.

For a while, he continues to complain about Carisi—who insists that everyone call him “Sonny,” takes night classes at Fordham Law (which makes him think, apparently, that he can pull strings and get Luna a T-nonimmigrant visa), and generally annoys Rafael—but soon he settles, and you know that Rafael is reacting poorly to Carisi because he’s stressed about the case Carisi is on, but you decide that—as long as Rafael hates Carisi, you do, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been absolute AGES, but I am working on the next chapter now. As of 2/4/16, I've started it.


End file.
